Rime
by PoisonComeUndone
Summary: Rime: a hard freeze; a gathering of thick frost.  It's only when Loki reveals his true nature to Thor that his brother realizes the depth of the distance between them, and how far he'll have to go to bridge it.


Ok, a couple things I wanted to say…

1. This is my first Thor fic. Yaaay, Be, um…gentle? lmao I mean, if I you hate it, please tell me, but not hating if at all possible would be awesome too, lol (God, branching out into a new fandom is always ridiculously hard on my nerves, X.X)

2. Every bit of information on these guys I have comes from the movies and random bits and pieces of information I've picked up from my dad and online. I've never read comics for any of them(not that I don't want to! I just don't have the time, currently.). AND while I've watched both Iron Man movies over and over(particularly the first one) and I've seen Thor a few times now, I've only seen Captain America once, and considering I knew the least about him to begin with, I don't feel comfortable writing Steve at all. Or Hawkeye and Black Widow like, at all, really, because I have no comics background with these guys. I'm really sorry for that, and I'm hoping once I can see Captain America more I'll at least feel good enough writing Steve that he and Tony can make genuine appearances. So…I wanted there to be a couple full on team scenes in here, but I'm having to avoid the team to make up for my own character knowledge shortcomings, X.X [/failure]

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_It was the shock of wet heat that yanked him from his sleep. It gave him a start sudden enough that he woke with a gasp, rising up on his elbows and shoving his furs back with one motion. _

_Of course, there was Loki, grinning at him from between his thighs, twinkling mischief mingled with burning intent in his eyes. _

"_Sorry. Did I wake you?" _

_Thor's sigh was tinged with as much of a growl as he could give it, his eyes automatically cutting around for witnesses, though of course there was no one. These were his private chambers, the middle of the night…even if they heard him beating the walls down he was fairly sure no one would dare to disturb him here. Other than his impossible brother, clearly. _

_He couldn't have been asleep more than an hour, as he could still feel the effects of too much wine. He felt heavy and warm with it, weighed down more than the weight of Loki's palm against jut of his hip ever could have managed. _

"_Loki…" He wasn't sure what he meant it to be, but before the word slipped out it had carried more of an echo of command in his head. In actuality there was little there and much more of something __**else**__, something that just made Loki grin as he dipped his head to suck a mark into Thor's skin around where his abdomen met with his hips. _

_He hadn't planned for this, truly. He never did. It just __**happened**__, and it always happened like this. Loki would come to his bed, and he would be unable to refuse. It wasn't so impossible a concept, really. He'd never been able to refuse Loki anything, not when he was __**really**__ asking it of him. _

"_I wasn't sure you'd be alone." There was an edge there, something between slight annoyance and venom, though when Thor reached for him to tip his chin up for a look his hand was brushed away. "After all, there was that blonde beauty who I believe would've been more than willing to get her lips around you." _

"_Yes, well, she…" He had no excuse, none, other than the simple fact that it had been some time since Loki had come to him at night, and he hadn't missed the way his little brother's eyes had lingered on his motion when he'd been caught sucking a drop of blood from his thumb when he pricked his finger on his knife. He hated to admit it, his thoughts twisting away from it even in his own mind, but he __**had**__ been expecting this after all, hadn't he? Hoping for it at the very least, enough to ensure his bed would be empty if Loki chose to make a move. _

_All of this he's neither ready nor willing to say, and likely never will be, so he does what he can instead and strokes his fingers through his brother's hair. _

"_Usually you have the decency to join me before I'm asleep." _

_Loki's eyes flashed just that little bit deeper green, a depth unmatched by any emerald, and he nuzzled against Thor's rapidly stirring cock, deliberately slow. "Should I be sorry, then? By all means, Thor, I could leave and suck you off when it's more convenient. I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard for me to find someone that would appreciate-"_

_He couldn't bear to hear it, the near searing heat of sudden anger in his chest driving Thor to reach for him, to silence him. He wanted him closer, wanted to crush him against his chest and kiss the words off his lips until even his great mind forgot them, until there was nothing but this. He halfway succeeded. Clever and swift as always Loki met him halfway, a double of his naked form now molded against Thor's chest, melting into the tight grip on his shoulders. _

"_Temper, my brother." He shook his head, sighing dramatically as he shifted, his lips hovering tantalizingly out of reach of Thor's. "Must you always be so impatient?" _

_He didn't answer. Taking Loki's face in his hands he pulled him down for a kiss as deep as he could manage, fierce and claiming. His tongue ravaged Loki's mouth, tasting and reveling, though it was only the way Loki keened when Thor pulled back and bit down hard against his neck that seemed to quiet the clamor behind his ribs. Loki was everywhere, between his legs stroking his thighs and nuzzling against his hip even as he rested nearly trembling against his chest, pale neck now exposed for Thor to mark as he willed. With that he could more than take his time, could suck and tease and bite until Loki was rutting against the mattress, wanton and begging. _

_That, he could easily accomplish. Even if he didn't care to examine it all, Thor was fairly certain everything that struck sharp and hot in his veins at the thought of Loki leaving his bed for anyone else's had little to do with patience. If he had it nowhere else in his life, with Loki at least he had always managed to find overflowing reserves. _

_He started just over his pulse, his own heart racing at the feel of blood pumping underneath his tongue. He was so real, so warm, from the heat of his skin to the heat of his breath as it brushed across his cock. Loki kept him ever turned around even in this, always an eager participant but never sure of anything beyond sensation. _

_He eased back, swirled his tongue over the bruise he'd left, growled his assent when Loki whined. He loved the sound, craved it even if he was honest, but something in it still threw him, drew his focus down to open, grinning eyes. Loki was half lost and half focused, two contrasting emotions in two forms inches away from each other. Moments like this more than ever he hated to think it, hated to question it, but how much of it was art and how much genuine abandon? _

_His grip tightened, one arm wrapping around the waist of the body he held. His lips were damp against Loki's ear, he knew, and he could feel him shudder and nuzzle toward the graze. _

"_Where are you, brother?"_

"_In your bed." It came from his left, a fresh position, a separate expanse of pale skin shining in the moonlight and a new pair of hands, one rubbing his chest as he other tangled in his hair. This new Loki pulled himself in close, lips to Thor's ear to share a whisper of his own. "Why do you think so hard about it? It's distracting, not to mention unnatural, for you." He could feel Loki smile, couldn't help but let out a breath of laughter. Even now, always, Loki cannot resist the urge to needle him. _

_Thor resists the urge to turn toward the voice, only moves enough to trail his lips over his brother's jaw, kisses peppering his skin between words. "Why do you hide yourself from me? Let me touch you." _

"_You are." _

_Nimble fingers close over the hand Thor has resting against the hip of the body he holds, coaxes him to slide his touch lower, squeezing against Loki's ass. He can't deny that it __**feels**__ real, everything from the firm flesh against his palm to the way Loki's hips roll against him in response, but that tells him nothing because every inch of it feels real, every limb and every touch. _

"_Loki, I-"_

_Loki's mouth finally descended on his cock, pure liquid heat, and there are hands rubbing his chest in earnest and Loki kissed him in the same instant, swallowing the sound of pure pleasure he drew from Thor's throat. _

_He is relentless, focused, and every ounce of resistance Thor might have mustered drains from him to soak into the sheets. It's the same realization they come to every time, the same result at the same crossroads. If this is the way Loki wants it, Thor can give him that. He'll give him whatever he wants. _

As he had in the dream, Thor wakes with a gasp.

He is an undeniable mess, tangled in constricting sheets, disoriented in the dark, and frustratingly hard. The sheets he wrenches himself away from, throwing them to the floor in a move too furious to be smooth before reaching left with a little too much power for the light. He hears it wobble on its base and reaches up just in time to catch it by the shade, steadying it with a curse before he can reach the switch. Even if the dream hadn't left him so agitated, he is not yet accustomed to this place.

It had been one thing to be trapped in Midgard before, in exile. This was…it shouldn't have been worse. Every ounce of logic in him told him it _wasn't_ worse, and in some ways he certainly knew that to be true. He had his honor, now. He was part of a group of warriors dedicated to protection and light and he was fortunate enough to have Jane close again, though he had yet to make any of the proper advances toward her he had once thought he'd plan. If circumstances were different, perhaps his heart would have been in it, been prepared to appreciate her as she deserved. Someday, he may well reach that point, and if he did he would endeavor to deserve her. For now, she remained a loyal friend, and he owed her a great deal for how much she had done to keep him from sinking into despair.

Thinking that Loki had fallen into the abyss, that his little brother was lost to him forever in some chasm of space had been horrible, choking even, but he had been learning to bear the weight left by his absence. Thor had loved Loki from the moment he had grown old enough to realize what it meant to have a little brother, and no matter his actions he had loved him still as he watched him let go and fall from the fractured Bifrost. It had been Loki's fingers that loosened and still Thor had held on tighter, the sharp tug of something in his gut telling him that it was _he_ who had let his brother go.

It had all been horrendous, but none of it, not one _instant_ of that pain, including the first, had equaled what he'd felt only a week before, standing for the first time across the line of battle from his beloved brother. Loki had stepped out to face them, cunning and sneering and cold, and Thor had never wished more for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He wanted to _mourn_, properly, to scream and rage and fall to his knees but while he owed his allegiance to the Avengers he could be afforded no such luxury. It shamed him to think it, but it was easier to think of Loki dead than like _this_, because his brother had not looked at him once. Not once.

He had spoken instead to two of the others, Stark and the Captain, and though it had been Thor that had first called out to him, scraping the strength from reverses he didn't feel he should have, Loki had ignored him. As if he'd never spoken at all, as if he did not even exist. There was death all around them, bodies in the street and somewhere nearby there was the sound of a man crying over his wife, and none of it had even been able to bring him a second's pain strong enough to touch _that_ kind of agony. He would have rather Loki raged at him, because he could have seen a chance in that. They had fought, before. They were _brothers_. If Loki cared enough to fight with him, maybe he could make Loki understand. Maybe they could make _each other_ understand. In all of Asgard, they each retained the distinction of being the only one capable of talking the other down.

Granted, that had long been Loki's chief job rather than his own, a deep truth that troubled him even more. Thor was the one that ran leaping to drastic conclusions and grand motions, and it was Loki, always quick, clever Loki that reached out with deceptively strong arms to keep him from toppling over the edge of any cliff. As a boy, Thor had sworn times far past counting how he would ever be Loki's protection, prepared to defend him from any attacker even if it cost his life. Even then he had known this, even as child he had never doubted his ability to lay down his own life, not for _him_. Now, the fault in the logic twisted at him, knife sharp in his heart and under every inch of his skin. It was never Loki who had needed saving, not until now, and already he had failed. The mighty Thor, once almost king of Asgard, and at this most fundamental task he had sworn his life to, he had failed. It was no wonder that his father had cast him here, truly. He wouldn't have wanted himself as a son either. Or a brother.

Though he'd wanted the light it had proved too much for his thoughts, one arm casually thrown across his eyes to shield them. In raising it to check the clock he catches a glimpse of the number, mocking neon green.

_4:00_

He won't sleep again after that dream, he knows. He is too awake still, too tormented, but at least the sober thoughts of his waking mind have chased away the arousal that had so burned him in the aftermath of his memories. Even the brief thought of it is conflicting, undeniable want and need followed by a punch of loss so thick it tastes bitter on his tongue. Loki used to come to him, for everything. Absolutely everything, and now it is too much to ask for his brother to even acknowledge his existence. _This_ pain is greater than any other, and though he's fairly sure it shouldn't be, certain it makes him something horrid for having felt better at the thought that he was dead, it cannot be helped. He feels what he feels, and it is destroying him.

He'd been told, somewhat kindly, that if he could not control himself and his loyalties he'd be pulled from this fight. The warrior in him had rebelled, promised Mjolnir and all his might anew to these people and this place, but even then something deeper and higher had twisted in his veins, making itself known. Coulson said they _couldn't_ spare him on this one, even if it was personal. He had no choice, no choice anywhere.

"Brother…" Here, there is no one to hear the sound, rough and mangled and filled with a thousand old things. What he wants to ask most he doesn't, even to the silence.

_Why? If nothing else, Loki, do I not at least deserve to know __**why**__?_

He means to get up, to go and see if Jane is still in the lab, to sit on a different roof with her and listen to her findings until his mind is clear, but in the end he doesn't have the strength. When Tony Stark hammers on his door at nine o'clock, he finally drags himself out of bed.

'''''''''''''''''''''

The next time, Thor refused to be ignored. He doesn't think it through, doesn't plan it, realizes only that Loki is walking away and dragging Thor's soul with him across the pavement, and so he surged forward, breaking away from the others and shutting out their cries of warning. Something nasty and sharp at the back of his mind tells him that he won't have to worry, that they'll hardly even fight over this later because it won't have affected a thing. Loki's already proven he won't speak to Thor, so why would he ever feel the need to turn around?

"_Loki_!" The sound erupts from his throat with the feel of something tearing, like it's taking his vocal chords with it. "_**Loki**_!" Behind him the others still clamored for his attention, and ahead Loki kept walking, and for a moment Thor let his rage have rein. He snapped his wrist, releasing Mjolnir to rocket through the air, zinging dangerously close to Loki's side before jerking into reverse. Even to his familiar eyes, the twitch Loki gives is barely perceptible, and with a growl his dismisses the tactic. Force will get him nowhere it seems, but he's lost here, on unfamiliar ground. In conflict, force is almost all that he understands. The words he always left to Loki, for as long at least as his own temper would permit words to be spoken. Even when he did speak under those circumstances, if he had had the chance to prepare at all his words would ring with Loki's council. Now that there is no whisper in his ear, the right words come even harder and too often not at all. He could strike him, he knows, force him to the ground and get his attention, but at the same time he knows that he _can't_.

It was different, when they fought as brothers. Even then it was with a certainty that there was no finality, there. It could only go so far. If they truly fight now there will be no failsafe, no place for even the slightest restraint and he can't, he _can't_. He might've sworn allegiance to these people, and he'll stand with them in opposition to Loki if he must, but if it comes to his brother's death, the last blow can never come from him. In his mind, he's killed Loki once; he can't bear to do it again.

"Loki, _please_! Stop this madness! Will you not…" He trailed off, bit his tongue to keep from falling into _that_ trap. He doesn't have time for a speech, and he doesn't want anything he says to sound like a sermon. He hates every bit of this, the distance between them, the tension in Loki's back even as he's still walking away, the fact that he's standing there searching for words. It isn't _right_, not right at all that he should question the weight of every single word he might speak to his own brother.

"I would have fallen with you!" That does _something_, and finally, Loki draws up short. He isn't looking at him, but it's plain he's acknowledging that he hears something, and that in itself is enough to make Thor bold, his voice rising. "If I could have caught your hand I would have never let you fall, but if I had known..." Bitter, everything tasted bitter these days. Truly, he should have jumped after him anyway. He'd thought it, days later. Taking his life after the fact was out of the question as a matter of honor, but at the moment he knew Loki was lost to him forever, it wouldn't have been so wrong to slip trying to break his fall. "I failed you, and there you have every right to be angry with me. I would never dispute it. But if you cannot tell me what drove you to take such desperate action then, what pushed you to _this_, then I cannot help you now."

His words were swallowed by a distorted half silence, marred a little by the background but largely muting, suffocating. Even the Avengers had fallen silent, listening with shallow breath to the space between the gods, near to breaking with snapping, crackling weight. Loki stood still as death, and Thor's impatience dogged him, digging teeth into the pain of waiting and finally prompting him to push a little more.

"Brother, please, let me-"

"You have no brother!"

The cut of the words is so sharp that just then, nothing else could have reached him. There is more than venom in them, deeper, true undiluted malice and hatred and the only thing Thor knows other than the pain he can feel in every inch of his body is that he _doesn't understand_. No matter how hard he thinks, he remembers nothing between them that would have brother this on, remembers instead the day of his almost coronation when Loki stood beside him and reassured him of his love. At the time he'd thought it good to hear though he had never doubted, but now, now…

"See it with your own eyes! _Look at me!_" He hadn't even realized his gaze had dropped, that he was staring into fractured pavement while his mind reeled, but he obeyed. He obeyed, and it seemed to tap his last strength from him, leeching it from his bones. The words themselves had sliced him open, the vein was cut. This could be nothing more than bleeding, and still, his mind could not comprehend it.

In the sunlight his skin was shockingly blue, his glaringly crimson eyes burning with so much hatred. Irrationally Thor cannot resist the feeling that it's _that_ that is the most out of place. He's had a lifetime of Loki's looks thrown his way, everything from fury and jealousy to passion and love, but he's never once looked at Thor like _that_, not even in a moment of anger as a child. Considering the full picture it shouldn't be on the expression that his eyes catch, but it happens nonetheless. He is the speechless one then, feeling robbed of his words and almost all his thoughts. It brings them back into a sort of mockery of balance, the pressure of words once again resting with one who is a master of them.

"Do you see it now, Thor? There is no blood shared between us, _none_. Our dear father took me out of convenience and curiosity, nothing more. I am _this_." Everything in the sound dripped with loathing, the last word spit out as if the act of having it on his tongue was offensive in itself. "And I was foolish enough to think I might could earn something that was _never_ mine if I denied it, if I fought for the right. But no, you couldn't let me finish it, couldn't let me rid us of the Jotuns altogether, despite the fact that days before you'd been the one so desperate to taste their destruction." Something flashed in his eyes, violent and wild, and he yanked his helmet from his head, leaving it to dangle by horn from his hand.

"Well I can't offer you your own chance at Jotunheim from here, but you're looking at a piece of it. So why don't you do it, Thor? I know how you think, how you feel about my kind, so _do it_. Just get it over with."

The revulsion at the very suggestion was so strong that he actually let Mjolnir slip from his grasp, falling with a resounding thud beside his feet. How could he? How _could_ he, and how could Loki think he _would_? Of course he hadn't known, would have never suspected and the shock was substantial, the realization far too much for him to have even taken in yet but all of that was really irrelevant next to the simple truth that he would've hoped at some point in their life he'd have made it clear that the ties that bound him to Loki as his brother and closest friend went far deeper than a strictly biological link ever could.

"Loki…" He took a careful step, eager to close a fraction of their physical distance if nothing else. If he could reach him, if he could-

"Will you stop the dramatics and get it _over_ with? You know it, Thor, you know there is _one_ way this can end." Something in his voice quavered, and just then Thor wasn't sure if it was rage or pain. He struggled, cast around for something that might pull Loki back from the certainty he'd driven himself to, but the sound of a mechanical whine behind him drew him up cold.

"_No!_" He wheeled on Stark, the smooth handle of Mjolnir slamming reassuringly strong into his palm as he turned. At the moment, everything was changed. Before he'd convinced himself he could be willing to look the other way if it ever came down to Loki's destruction, but in the midst of raw emotion flayed open by his brother's words, there could be no fooling anyone as to where his dearest loyalty lie, not even himself.

Tony closed his fist without a word, though the move was slow, the mask hiding whether the hesitation came from acceptance or reluctance. When Thor turned around, Loki was gone.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''

When Loki came to his bed for the first time, his little brother was still a boy. Essentially, at least. He wasn't a child but he certainly wasn't a man, and though Thor himself wasn't so much older he had felt it. He had had his own experiences with women and one man already, but Loki came to him inexperienced, seeking. They had indeed shared everything else, and though he at first had intended to protest, even as a youth Thor had never met anyone with cunning like his brother. He had wheedled his way into it, his soft words a mixture of pleading and logic that Thor could never have resisted. Or, so he told himself. If he had been older, perhaps, or if he had not loved his brother quite so much, but it had never exactly been the giving in that he regretted. So much might have been easier if he hadn't, but sometimes, he was selfish. It had meant far too much to him for Thor to ever be able to ever truly regret beyond the fleeting moments where he saw only the complications.

In hindsight, so much sharpens, old half formed thoughts heightened into something almost horrifyingly clear. He could remember a moment, little more than a breath in time. They were at table no more than week after, an inconsequential feast, and he'd spoken in passing of a woman he might marry, a match that would please his father and his people. He had thought, then, only of the contract of marriage, the appearances, in his arrogant blindness caring little of other consequences. A king could do as he wished, could he not? Before, he had thought ever of what he _could_ do and oh so rarely of what he _should_. He wanted to believe that he could remember the look in Loki's eyes as he'd said it, some mark of pain or a flicker of a change, but the memories were all false constructs, drawn without a reference. Then, he had seen nothing. He had been too foolish, too disconnected to even think to look. When Loki came to him next he didn't come alone, multiples of himself wrapping around Thor and twisting his thoughts. From then on, it was always ambiguous half illusion, real and dreamlike all at once in a way that left him never sure. For Thor, he might have only ever genuinely touched him that first night Loki had come to him, when he'd felt his brother hold to him as if he was all that kept Loki from slipping away from ground and sky and Asgard itself.

His skin burned at the thought, a pain and an itch. He felt as if he'd touched Loki a thousand times, pleasured him and held him and felt the radiating heat from his skin, but had he not been lying to himself all along? Didn't he know the truth, hadn't he known from the first moment he'd seen the doubles that he couldn't be sure? Loki had withdrawn from him, and Thor had let him do it, let him pull back into his own shell and he had never truly questioned him. Now, he feels as if it's there the origin rests, the start of something between them that grew swifter and stronger the more he ignored its presence. As children, they had told each other everything. As men, Thor told the pieces that meant nothing and Loki watched with eyes that saw everything and they became a shallow representation of where they had begun, a picture of a violent future king and his much wiser brother. A well-drawn image perhaps, but even the prettiest picture is still a construct, little more than careful strokes and pretty paint. He had been losing any touch of reality with Loki in slow motion for years, and he had never spared a second to so much as notice. _His_ triumphs, his battles, his throne, his lovers…

He might have changed for the better after his fall to Midgard, but still he was constantly reminded of the truth in the words he had spoken to his father. He had endless amounts left to learn, and in his own eyes, he had yet to do _anything_ in which Odin should take pride. From the time Loki had first sent the Destroyer to this world though the last few months of fighting, Thor had wondered what he'd done that had driven his brother to such drastic change, forced him into such violent hatred. He'd never stopped to think that more likely, it wasn't what he had done to Loki that had laid this foundation, but what he _hadn't_.

Undoubtedly it was the revelation of his bloodline that had goaded Loki into this kind of action, but with that factor alone the picture was incomplete, a single rock that had to have been followed by a cascade, long stored in tentative equilibrium. There was so much built up from the past, so much of _that_ that had to have come from Thor and the way he never asked but kept right on taking.

It was the background that kept dominating his thoughts, overshadowing this last great piece. In comparison it seemed less vital only because he saw it through his own eyes, through a veil of love for Loki that could not be lifted. If he let himself think on it properly, on how he'd have felt to see the change in his own skin, the unbridled horror that must have come at the moment he realized the truth. Even there, the guilt choked him, constricting his lungs. He should have been there, should have been beside his brother to help him bear the weight.

In all his thoughts, no matter their wanderings, he did not for an instant think of Loki as anything other than his brother. The aspect Loki seemed to fear most was the one fear that hadn't entered his mind, and it would've been funny if it wasn't so horridly tragic. There was much he did not understand, why Odin had never told them, at least told _Loki_ so he could understand he was still wanted, how he had found out, why he hadn't come to Thor when he had…

No. No, that question he _wished_ remained a mystery, but the answers came all too readily, drawing his mind back from the question itself to vivid recollections of his past failures. He could not remember a time when everything in him had ever felt so heavy, weight upon weight. It ran so deep, all of it, the roots twisting back into his past, tightening, reminding him that most of them had been planted and cultivated by his own hands, his own actions.

After Loki had disappeared, everything had come together in a frantic sort of implosion, four contrasting voices screaming for his attention but he could hardly remember a word they'd said. It was only when Tony had questioned his loyalties that he'd responded, roaring that if he had any family of his own remaining, he might have understood. When Tony had pointed out that apparently in this world he didn't have any left either, Thor had stormed off before he did something he would regret. Instead he partially slaked his anger in a punch that left a sizable hole in his wall above the lamp before setting out from headquarters without a destination. 

Once he'd walked the nervous energy from tensed muscles he'd settled onto a park bench, and he'd stayed there for an interminable span of time. He'd noticed nothing beyond the streetlight across from him, flickering to life at regular intervals before casting him into half-darkness again. It had to be near dawn, by his absent reckoning. If he wasn't back soon, someone would come looking for him. Really, it was a miracle they hadn't already. Everything was out of proportion, space in all the wrong places. He couldn't get far enough from _them_ at the moment, but there was far too much of it stretching between him and the only one he wanted to see.

He sighed, leaned his head into his hands and watched the sidewalk illuminate as the bulb struggled to fully light.

"Loki…where _are_ you?" Considering his brother's powers, it probably wasn't quite utterly pathetic that he half expected an answer from the silence.

'''''''''''''''''''

Compared to Loki, Thor is stupid. He knows this, even if they've never spoken of it in anything more than jest. He's never minded it either, and he doesn't now. Compared to Loki, nearly everyone is stupid. He may not have Tony's brilliant mind or even Steve or Jane's, but the advantage Thor _does_ have is that unlike them, he knows his brother. Their encounters with Loki lately have diminished, dwindling almost to a stop ever since Loki had told him the truth, with curious exceptions. He's been tracking him as best he can, marking his actions and locations, and it only confirms what he feared after they spoke.

Loki isn't trying to win. He's only trying to get caught by the right person. It's a disturbing impasse, because Thor won't kill him, and Loki won't _let_ anyone else. He's halfheartedly tried to tell them as much, but he's not sure the others even believe him when he says Loki has yet to play opposite them in earnest. Right now he may be costing lives, but the movements lack true brilliance. He is playing with them to his own ends, and though Thor is sure it's a trap he'll never fall into, he's stumbled into enough of his brother's snares over his life to know to be wary.

Three weeks on, and the game is all he can think about. He's never beat Loki, not like this, not even once, but they've never played for his brother's life, and this time Thor knows he can't afford to lose.

His eyes had been staring through the latest reports of his brother's handiwork in Newark when he heard the knock on his door. He'd already read it enough times to have the tedious thing memorized, and he shoved it into a desk drawer unceremoniously, slamming it shut.

"You may enter."

Tension he hadn't even realized he held eased from his shoulders when he saw it was Jane, coffee in hand. It seemed he saw her less and less of late, or was he simply withdrawing more and more? Either way, she was welcome.

"Hey, everything ok?" She was certainly learning him, almost a little too well. He almost smiled, almost tried to fool her but it _was_ maddening, these fears, and he had no one else to tell.

He looked away, didn't meet her eyes even when she pushed the warm mug into his half limp hands. A 'TS' was scratched into the paint on the outside of the cup, a mark of the time a month or more ago when Tony had taken it upon himself to mark certain of his things in the vain attempt to keep them from being used by everyone. His lips quirked, but it couldn't quite reach a smile. Today, he felt far too weathered. Jane took a seat on his almost empty desk, pulling her knees up to rest her arms against as she faced him.

"Thor? What is it; what's wrong?"

"Everything." No, that wasn't quite right. He took a drink, unsurprised when it failed to warm him. "No, I…I am grateful, both for the good we do here and the chance to have this position. However…" However, it was going to drive him mad. No, that wasn't the right answer either. "Loki wishes his death to come from my hands." Even though he'd heard Loki ask for it, personally saying it aloud sounded somehow even more poisonous.

"I'm so sorry." She even sounded it. With everyone else, it was so hard to get a hint of genuine sympathy, their views colored by too much hatred. "Has he…did he say something else? I didn't know that-"

"No, I have yet to see him again." Clint had glimpsed him, once, but the arrow he'd let fly had hit only air. Thor had accepted the knowledge with a nod, silent but for the pounding in his chest that raced enough to leave him weak. All he'd been able to think was that at least he was alive, still alive…alive, and still pushing at pressure points, calculating his steps. Thor set the mug down on the desk with enough force to spill coffee over his fingers, splashing onto the wood. Jane had known him long enough by now that she didn't flinch, but he shoved his own chair back and took up pacing the floor, the anxious gnawing suddenly too much to take without motion. "I know my brother, Jane. Whether any among the Avengers believe me or not, I know him still-"

"Thor, I don't think they're trying to say you-"

"-and I know what this is _not_. Jane…" How much could he tell her, how much would she understand? He hated the feeling of keeping it all in, locked away from those he loved. These people, they had become family, and the necessity of distrust inherent in this situation troubled him, leaving him torn. He hated to be anything but utterly open with them, but he could not do it at the risk of Loki's life, not when things stood as they did. "I do not believe it is the world he wants." In her eyes there was too much of the wrong kind of sympathy, placating, and drew closer to her again, shaking his head. "No, please, hear me. I have watched him for as much of my life as I can remember, and though I have missed too much in some respects on others I _know_ I am not wrong. He never wanted this, Jane, he never even wanted the throne. He wanted nothing more than equality from me; he told me as much himself and I believe that he meant it."

She rubbed her hands together, thinking. Her eyes studied her own movements, and when she spoke she barely looked at him. "I'm not…don't take this the wrong way, please, but how are you sure even that was the truth? He lied to you, when he came here from Asgard, he told you your father was dead and your own mother wouldn't let you come home. There was no truth to any of it, but he convinced you. I just…if he can convince you of that, I-"

"You speak of different matters. You don't understand, the weight that he carries now is tremendous, and Jane, I should have been there to help him bear and yet I knew _nothing_ of it." Everywhere he looked, there was something else about this that seemed to trace right back to his own steps.

"You didn't know because he didn't tell you! He didn't even give you a chance to understand, he just assumed you wouldn't and left you here, after he tried to kill you!"

Even as certain as he was of his course, the words still stung. In those moments with the Destroyer it had been the same, the divide he felt between the two of them tearing something inside that cold metal or even blazing fire never could have reached. He didn't believe her, refused to believe her. It could not be too late.

"He is not himself. And if he feared coming to me, then my failure as a brother is far more severe than his." It felt like everything in him dragged down with the words, tiny glimmering hooks of the truth pricking at everything they could reach. "My brother….he once had our entire household under an enchantment that turned everything that touched our tongue into ants at the outset of a grand banquet. When we were boys he once cursed me with the inability to hold onto anything for more than an instant, left me to spend an entire afternoon wondering if I'd begun to lose my mind. He wants to have his fun, yes, but he doesn't want to destroy the world, I _know_ it. He never has. He and Doom are not the same, and if he is working with him now, then he is first a danger to himself."

She had listened, he could see that much at least, but it was clear he did not have her convinced. The anger that had come when she had spoken of the Destroyer's attack had faded, but a lack of fury and a change of heart were two very different things.

"You do not believe me, I know."

"It's…I want to, I do, but I can't help but wonder if…" She bit her lip until he distracted her, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. "It's just that sometimes, it's dangerous to want to believe in something so much."

"That does not sound like the wisdom of the woman who brought me out into the desert against all other counsel."

She conceded the point with a soft laugh, shifted back to lean against his wall. "You're smarter than most people think you are, you know." Sometimes, a little. His mind told him, though, that if he could manage, it was only because he been exposed to the best. "It's not that I don't want to believe you, and if…if you're right, I'll give him a chance, but I don't want to see anything happen to you. I can't help but think this is just another trick, and not to speak for the others but I know that Steve at least has thought about it too."

That was a chance he hadn't even wanted to acknowledge, and he didn't want to respond to it now. He had to believe that he knew Loki at least that well, because if he didn't…

No, he couldn't even think it.

He dragged his chair back out, slumped into it and took up his cup of cooling coffee. "If I tell you something in confidence, will you swear to keep it between us?"

"I…yes. Yes, of course I will."

He had to believe her, too. Sometimes, faith was a necessity that had to come without much rational consideration. "I have to help him, if I can. I believe with all my heart that there is still a chance for my brother and I cannot give up on him now. I must have a chance to speak to him alone, to make him understand."

She offered no answer but slid off the desk instead, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Please just be safe, ok? Don't do anything crazy."

He almost asked her to define 'crazy', but it seemed a bit irrelevant. He was certain to be defying her description anyway.

''''''''''''''''''''''

His chance to do something epically foolish doesn't come for two more weeks. Half the others were already out on a mission with only Natasha and Clint remaining at headquarters other than himself. Natasha had been injured only days before, and though the report that came in indicated only an explosion in the street and not a sighting of the actual villain, the timing was enough to make him suspicious.

Loki had been careful, deliberate. Before, he had made it clear he wanted to act as if Thor didn't exist, but now that his secret was revealed he wanted to speak to face no one else. The one on one he was more than willing to give him, on his own terms.

At the first sight of his brother the rush of need and desperation for so many things was almost overwhelming, a lot to say considering how much he'd expected. Everything else narrowed, his vision centering. For his part, Loki watched him, something in his wide eyes of almost rabid anticipation. Thor could hardly bear to think about what he had to be anticipating, but even though he shoves the thought down over and over the pain remains. He used it, let it drive him forward just a little faster, close the distance just a little quicker. This time, Loki hasn't turned to walk away.

"It's sunk in now, has it? Well I knew it had to happen eventually, I suppose in front of your friends-"

"I would speak with my brother."

Loki met his gaze, eyes smoldering with defiance. "We've been over this already; it's tiresome. You have no brother."

"I know beyond all doubt that I do. And I would see him now." He approached carefully, something in him sinking at the way Loki didn't run. "Show me."

"Do you need to see it to kill me with a clear conscience?" That voice of his, so often mastered, was heavy with emotion, disgust and a disturbingly eager bent. "Well I suppose you're right, why shouldn't I?" He waved his hand to summon a sword, glittering silver materializing under his fingertips along with the motion. The change in his body was so smooth it came as a gentle ripple, spreading from his hands up his arms to claim everything Thor's eyes could touch.

He had reached it, the critical moment, and he could waste no time. His first swing of Mjolnir met with air, Loki having used a whirlwind of his own to turn Thor's steps around but he was ready for trickery and it did not entirely break his stride. He went with the move instead, continuing around to strike from the opposite angle. It was a glancing blow, only knocking his sword a little aside with a clang and Loki could have easily recovered from it in time to make a fairly decent counter strike, but Thor had only wanted the blade enough out of the way to make the move he'd planned all along.

As his took Loki's face in his hand there was a moment of unexpected shock as he realized Loki's skin didn't burn him, realized indeed for the first time that such a thing could have been a consequence. Even after knowing, the thought had never occurred to him. The shock of it only slowed him by a breath and then he was following through with the motion, knocking Loki's helm to the ground and bringing his mouth down to Loki's.

Even the first touch of his brother's lips on his was enough to set everything in him burning, and he freely released every inhibition he might still have held. He held Loki firmly in place, his tongue already demanding more than asking for entrance. He wondered then if he would resist, let him in but refuse to kiss him, push him away entirely, but when Loki opened to him, Thor could feel a hand fisting in his cape. The feel of it all was unbelievable, the heady taste of Loki, spice and unnamable things, the _heat_ as Loki's tongue twisted almost cautiously with his own. Above them the sky crackled, lighting flashing, and Thor let Mjolnir drop from the hand that still held it to rest between his feet. He instead wrapped his arm around Loki's waist, dragging their bodies into alignment. Through his armor it might have seemed meaningless, but the pressure and the presence was reward enough to be worth it.

Until Loki tore his mouth away, the hand that had gripped so tight in his cape now pushing against him.

"Stop it."

"Loki-"

"You stupid oaf, I-"

He'd already thrown too much into the attempt to pay attention. He cut off Loki's protests with another kiss, less possessive but still determined. His bit down carefully on Loki's lip, just enough to get his attention, to make the hand still pushing against his shoulder ease back. Only when it did did he break the kiss but keep only a fraction's distances, feeling Loki's breath on his lips as he spoke.

There were a million things he wanted to say, thing she needed Loki to understand. If he still could, if the chance might truly be open to him, he would be bound to him forever. At this point his return to Asgard seemed ages in the distance, but even if it had not all thoughts of a marriage for any reasons but those of his own heart had left his mind. He had kissed him now in the street to prove that very thing, to show him that it was still Loki he loved, Jotun or Asgardian. There was so much, so many words, and his fingers tightened on the back of Loki's neck. He could feel the Jotun ridges under his fingers, and he could not have cared less. The muscles underneath, the way they tensed under his hand, _that_ felt utterly familiar and so very Loki.

"Why did you not tell me? Have I wronged you that much that you could believe I loved you so little as to break from you for this?"

This close Loki's eyes were breathtaking, nearly iridescent green. His breath quickened. Thor could feel the tension thrumming in him, balanced on the edge of pushing him away all over again. Still, he hadn't disappeared, and it was on that that Thor kept piling all his hopes. He hadn't disappeared.

When Loki licked his lips, the flicker of tongue that brushed Thor's soundly tested his self control.

"How could I tell you I had become what you hate the most in all the world? Tell you, and see you come to hate me as well? You know as well as I, Thor, that you're not exactly stellar at distinctions. Jotuns are hated, and if I am…finding out that I was-"

Thor clutched at him, something near bruising in his grip. "You are Loki. My _brother_, and the only man other than our father that I have trusted all my days. There is no force in all the cosmos that could change these facts, Loki, do you understand? If you are Jotun, then you have been so all your life. And there has never been a time I did not love you." Everything in him was screaming, pleading for Loki to understand. If he could understand only this, the rest would follow.

"If we had never gone to Jotunheim…" The bitterness woven in the words was strong enough that the very sound was brittle, but the sharp edges were eased by the way Loki finally eased under his hands, his forehead coming to weary rest against Thor's shoulder. At the touch of armor on his skin, he shuddered.

Thor cupped the back of his brother's head, turning to press a kiss to his temple.

"Will you allow me a chance to prove sincerity to you? There is nothing so great we cannot face it together, you and I." So many things in his life were backed by this, by faith that he could throw himself into. He could not live any other way.

He caught it out of the corner of his eye, the way the blue on Loki's skin had started to recede, and on a whim he chased it, lips lingering against Loki's jaw on a spot where the change had been slower to reach. Loki's breath caught, and his hand finally released cloth to grip onto Thor's bare skin.

He had only the warning of Loki's hand tightening on his arm before he felt the spread of the tingle that told him they were both about to disappear.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

…um, wow. So much freaking longer than I expected this first part to be, lol Part two(with porn, lmao) should be coming pretty soon, ^^

Anyway, what did you think? *is dying to know* haha


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